


flick of a wrist (and you’re dead baby)

by heatherhearts



Category: Metallica
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherhearts/pseuds/heatherhearts
Summary: There is a line, James and Jason cross it.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Jason Newsted
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	1. set me on fire

**Author's Note:**

> to angelina

It was past midnight and Jason found himself in James' hotel room holding his breath. With his heartbeat in his ears and the outlines of things softly blurred out by the beer, the skin underneath his jeans tickled when James' sweaty palm fell on his knee. His body turned stiff and his movements abruptly became clumsy and lumbering.

James was too caught up within his story to notice how close he had moved and how intimate the touch truly was. He was still describing a story of a riveting character whom he had named 'Timmy the Trucker', and the great adventures of Timmy the Trucker and himself in nineteen-eighty-one.

Jason chewed on his bottom lip and prudently turned his head to the side to peer at James through thick eyelashes. They were sat on the couch of James' hotel room—how had they ended up here, Jason didn't recall. It was one of those lazy, casual nights where James was in a peculiarly good mood and wasn't grilling the living hell out of Jason every chance he got. After three years it was safe to say: James was finally warming up to him.

His cheeks were flaming when James' hand traveled up—now resting on his inner thigh. The air was no longer relaxed and laid-back but strained and filled with untamed lust. He didn't notice at first when James had ended his story about Timmy the Trucker, not that he had been listening much, anyway.

Jason gulped, gaze flickering around on aimless objects around the hotel room to avoid mistakenly catching James' eye. He breathed heavily, air feeling like grains of sand rattling through his nostrils and clattering down his windpipe all the way to his lungs. When their gazes met, Jason let his fingers twitch and his body unthinkingly stir.

His mistake number one.

Right from the early days, he was quick to learn that showing fear and weakness of any kind, would get him killed in this band. To show the effects of hazing would be social suicide. He kept his feelings under the wraps, and now that he made the mistake of reflecting fear, James was quick to grasp onto it. James drank up the pure terror in his eyes and for some sick, twisted way arousal washed over him like a wave on beach rocks.

Jason wanted to say something. Anything, really. He even opened his mouth to kill the silence because honest to God, he would rather have James taunting and hazing him than spend another second with him in a silence filled with thick ardour. There was no explaining why he chose to stay quiet instead.

His mistake number two.

— ✧ —

James felt it, too. Saw how Jason's muscles tensed, his body flinched away, and how his simple touch had sifted the mood in a matter of seconds. His eyes darted between his hand on Jason's thigh and his face, a pair of cerulean eyes staring right back at him; in the possession of agitation.

Inappropriate and vulgar thoughts downpoured his mind. Imagines he deserved a grand smack on the cheek for. He wanted to spurn those thoughts away. Imaging your bandmate stark naked, underneath you, screaming and crying for your name, wasn't what he would consider an ideal situation to find himself in, to put it frankly.

He blamed the alcohol. He wasn't the first nor the last person to spend his nights in alcohol-driven devotion and it certainly wasn't the first time he was having those tasteless, vile thoughts. Alcohol took away shame when he was jerking off in his hotel room at the thought of his bassist. Humiliation and guilt would drown him in the morning, but those were problems for another day.

Then, there was nothing else left to do than pour all the bent up emotions on Jason in the disguise of anger. Jason wasn't the one to blame for his own crude thoughts and fantasies but he was an easy target. All that tension, bottled up feelings, and late-night frustration had to spill somewhere.

He was back in the loop; running in circles and repeating the same mistakes all over again. He wanted to travel through the endless heavens of women, but there was an elastic band wrapped around his ankle and all it took was a certain look or giggle from Jason, and he was snapped right back to the spiral of impossible chimeras.

He tried stomping on the urge to act on his desires but the roots of it only grew deeper when he watched Jason's lips wrap around the bottle. It made him wish to be the bottle instead.

— ✧ —

"I wanna... k-kiss you," James blurted out, lust shattering all logic. With the thought of 'fuck it, you only live once', he threw himself head-first into the abyss that was Jason. To soften the fall, he added, "kinda."

"Wha—what?" He blinked, short nails peeling at the label of his beer and brain trying to translate the unreadable look in James' eyes. "Kiss _me?_ " He pointed at his chest.

"Yeah." Jason stared back at him with those big orbs of his, face flushed, and pink lips faintly parted. "I kinda wanna kiss you," he repeated, gaining confidence somewhere along the way.

"I don't think... that's—you probably shouldn't," came Jason's dubious answer.

"...Probably not, yeah," he agreed. Turning his face away as if to consider something, his whole body appeared to pause. Jason fluttered his eyelashes at him, trying to understand what exactly was going through James' intoxicated, fucked up mind. "But, like, no one needs to know... y' know?" He sharply inhaled. "Just us here."

"Y-Yeah, just—" The sentence died in his throat when James sifted closer and pressed their sides together, faces mere inches apart. "Are you gay?"

"...No." James pulled away to set his bottle of beer on the coffee table, coming back to take Jason's and placed it next to his. "Are you?"

Jason looked away and James was yet to learn the valuable lesson in life that no response, was a response.

"So, can I...?" purred James, and when a tiny wrinkle appeared between Jason's eyebrows, he gestured towards his lips with his pointer finger. "Kiss you?"

He cleared his throat, the way James' eyes flicker to his lips didn't go unnoticed as he dared to speak again, "Uh, if you... If you want to."

James' hands came to rest on his waist, peeling him off the couch cushions and guiding him to sit on his knees. Jason let his sweaty palms fall on his thighs when James leaned closer. Their breathings mixed together, noses nearly touching and James took the moment to see Jason in a certain way for one last time.

Maybe it was because his brain was poisoned with alcohol and it was easy to point a blaming finger in the direction of the bottles when the morning comes but the truth was, he knew precisely what he was doing. Beer gave him nothing but courage. Jason was so new, so unfamiliar. From his scent to his touch; it was fresh and madly foreign.

James was the first one to break as he finally connected their lips. It was so innocent. As if two virgins were kissing for the first time in one of their parents' home, with said parents downstairs. Slow and uncertain; merely a soft press of lips before they already pulled away.

The second one was just as soft but a little smoother. They gained confidence and Jason even reached out to clasp his hands behind James' neck. James pulled him closer by his waist to straddle his thighs.

The third one was plump and delicious. James could taste the flavor, tongue licking Jason's bottom lip but entrance wasn't granted. Jason was smiling into the kiss, unintentionally breaking the contact, and James couldn't help but smile too.

The fourth one was growing rhythm. James' grip around Jason's waist tightened as their tongues battled for dominance—yelping when he lost and James' tongue intruded his mouth. It was just as good as James had imagined. He wanted it and he got it; consequences be damned.

— ✧ —

"Oh, fuck... _James_." His eyes fluttered closed, back arching off the cushions and fists twisting the black fabric of James' t-shirt.

James' lips were attached to his neck, biting and licking over his throat; drawing out all kinds of celestial sounds. He had his spit coated hand wrapped around Jason's dick and the bassist trapped against the couch—thighs as wide apart as the jeans allowed and shaky hands grasping onto his shoulders.

He was picking up speed. Encouraged, the stroked becoming rougher and faster. Jason's jaw gaped as if to say something but he held his tongue aside from quiet pants and whines, fingernails digging into James' shoulder blades. A moan tore from his chest when James let his thumb skim over the slit, the tip of his finger now smeared with precum. Peppering kisses along the column of his neck up to his chin, he smirked while sinking his teeth into the delicate skin.

"Faster, James." He lifted his hips to fuck James' fist. swallowing, James added speed as his own dick ached for attention and staining the insides of his boxers with precum.

He drove Jason's thighs further apart with sweaty palms while connecting their lips again. The innocence had been lost somewhere along the way and all there was left was alcohol-fueled ardour. The kiss was sloppy; with more teeth than tongue. Dizziness clouded his mind and all he could focus on was the heat in his face running down to his dick.

"...James, w-wait," he breathlessly whispered, scraping away a strand of hair sticking to his cheek with sweat. "I want you-" His cheeks light up in flames again as he tried mapping out his words.

"You have me?" James slurred, eyebrows raising and the movements of his hand slowing as Jason quietly panted.

He was sure he wouldn't find the courage to utter the words he wanted to say but when he looked down and remembered that his dick was in James' hand, all it took was around ten seconds of unbelievable courage: "Uh, fuck me?"

"Like... anal?" Jason nodded, blowing air out of his nostrils as James pulled his hand away. "Jason—" He sighed, "we can't."

"Why not?" pondered Jason. "I've done that before, you know?"

"With a guy?" His hand came to rest on Jason's waist, chasing after his eyes as they wandered around the room.

"Yeah." It was a hesitant answer, nearly a half a minute after the question had been spoken.

"You'd _really_ want that?"

"Yes," Jason said with more certainty this time. He had figured out what he wanted by now and knew how to get it. Who could blame him?

James hesitated. "Okay, then. Uhm, wait. H-Hold on. I might got some lube and we need to like..." He made indistinct movements with two of his fingers. "Right?"

"Yeah, that'd be-" The end of Jason's sentence died in his throat as James got up from the sofa and began searching through his possessions. Jason took the time to kick his jeans and underwear completely off, letting them fall on the floor.

"Here." Jason learned that James had quite a good aim when he was drunk but incompetent skill to limitate his use of strength as the bottle of lube rolled down the lounge area after, probably, forming a nasty bruise on Jason's collarbone. "S-Shit, sorry. Sorry," James apologized while chasing after the bottle under a dresser.

Rubbing his aching collarbone and pausing his undressing for a second to amusedly watch James on all fours, digging for a bottle of lube from underneath the furniture. A drunken half a screech, half a cheer echoed through the space when he finally managed to clasp his fingers around the bottle. A moment later, he was back on the couch and handing the lube to Jason instead of throwing it this time.

"Thanks." Jason took it with a timid smile, letting his shirt fall in the same slump of clothes on the carpet before lying down on the sofa. James, the gentleman he was, grabbed a couple of pillows to place them behind Jason's back to get him comfortable before sitting down on the other end, fisting the condom in his hand.

"I'll just — yeah, uhm. Do your thing, I guess." James thinned his lips into a narrow line and awkwardly watched him twist the cap off and squeeze a generous amount on his fingers. Jason wasn't a virgin but he’s had sex with men a handful of times, he had seen James and knew he wasn't exactly small either; so he added some more.

He swallowed, leaning back into the pillows to expose his hole. His slicked up fingers pressed against his entrance, rubbing over the rim of muscle before sliding one digit inside. His eyes fluttered shut, adding a second before long, and unintentionally crying out. It was a promise of what was to come.

James unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, struggling to push them down his thighs and sneaking a hand into his boxers. Looking at Jason; it really was a scene worth remembering. Jason spread out on the couch, fingers knuckle-deep inside, whining and panting in anticipation. He held Jason's gaze for a mere second, fingers twitching to touch but he settled on watching instead.

"You're—You're like really," James slurred, needlessly dragging out his words. "R-Really pretty... right now." He paused, "and all the other time, too."

Jason deeply inhaled as his cheeks tinted pink, turning his face away. He opened himself up slowly, gently working the fingers inside of him as James watched from the other end with his heartbeat in his ears and mouth agape. He studied every twist of Jason's hand, every grimace on his face as one of his hands tugged down his jeans, kicking his legs until they fell off and his boxers shortly followed.

Jason wrapped his left hand around his dick, fisting it to meet the pace of his other hand. He gulped, eyes flickering open to stare at the ceiling, neck all stretched out and gasps slipping from his mouth. James devoured the sounds, the sparks going right down to his dick.

_"Aah."_ His voice cracked. It was a soft, stifled sound. Escaped right between his lips as he added a third finger. He felt the burn; wrist twitching, toes curling. He gritted his teeth and relaxed each and every muscle in his body to the best of his abilities. He spread his fingers enough to feel the sting—back arching off the pillows.

The moment was tremendously intimate and carnal that way. Especially when their eyes met and Jason's hazy gaze poked at his heart. James decided that Jason was an angel. An angel God put on Earth just for him. He couldn't take his eyes off him, couldn't think of anything but him, wanted nothing more and nothing less than him. His entire life and existence orbited around Jason and only Jason tonight.

"I think I'm..." James looked down to see Jason pull out his fingers, squirming against the pillows to find a more comfortable position as his hole clenched around nothing. "I think I'm ready."

"Yeah?" James licked his chapped lips and carried himself on the other side of the couch where Jason lied. He situated himself between his thighs, a coy smile decorating his lips while doing so. He hoisted one of Jason's legs on the back of the couch, his calloused palm coming to rest on the other's knee.

"Slow, okay? Been a while," warned Jason as James seized the bottle of lube from the floor.

"Yeah, okay." James coated his dick with lube, adding more and wiping the excess lube on Jason's thigh, drawing his wet fingers along the hot skin. When he had worked the condom on, he leaned down to shatter the short silence, "This way or... that way? How we gonna do this?"

"This way's... g-good. Go for it, Man." Jason pulled James down by his shoulders, connecting their lips again. It was sloppy and hasty. Jason felt James' teeth scrape against his, breath reeking of booze and cigarettes. It was still good, though. Probably because he was drunk and hadn't been touched in an intimate, amorous way since the beginning of tour.

Fingers sinking into the skin on Jason's hip, he cautiously positioned himself to his entrance. He made sure to ask Jason if this was what he wanted for the last time before pushing the tip inside, studying each and every emotion on the bassist's features. Whimpering, Jason squirmed by instinct as James slowly pushed more of himself inside. His eyes flickered closed again, balled his fists and clenched his jaw as James kissed along his collarbone up to his mouth.

"My God," James growled against his lips, steadily thrusting inside as Jason gently struggled underneath him.

Jason wanted more. He wanted faster. He wanted it now. He became so desperate that he had to remind himself that it might have not hurt at the moment because the amount of lube used was more than generous, but if they rushed things tonight, he wouldn't be walking tomorrow. He had enough experience to know that.

Jason cursed under his breath when James came to a halt, all the way inside and patiently waiting for a green light. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the open-mouthed kisses James was peppering his face with. James was a kisser, who would have thought? He was a moody drunk, though. James could have freaked out any given second and flip the whole situation on its head, and if that was to happen; Jason was in a frightfully vulnerable position.

James brought his lips back on Jason's but they have to pull away when a string of Jason's hair spirited between their mouths. A strand of auburn hair now soaked with saliva as James softly brushed it away with his thumb. It stuck to Jason's cheek, clung onto the sweaty skin as they silently giggled at James' lack of success of flicking it away.

"Okay," Jason breathed, "move." Eyes of river waters, glossy with lust, flickered wide open to stare at James through a haze when James pulled almost all the way out, only the tip remaining inside the warmth, just to slam all the way back inside again. It earned him a noisy moan, Jason's dick spurting precum as James repeated the motion.

Jason's mouth spilled with different noises. Silent grunts, whimpers, and groans. Loud gasps, wails, and cries. He raised his hands to muffle the sultry sounds but James was quicker and captured his wrist before it reached his mouth, pinning it down on the pillows. Whining, Jason tried twisting his hand free as his stomach turned into tight knots. His body jolted with every thrust, the sofa's legs screeching against the floor as it gently rocked forward.

His breathing was slow and heavy against Jason's ear. He held him in place by his waist, using his hips to reach as deep as possible while finding his rhythm. Groaning, he pawed at Jason's hair. calloused fingers tangling in the thick locks and pulling not-so-gently at the scalp. As a reaction, he got a throaty whine as Jason arched onto him, blunt fingernails scraping at the skin from his shoulders to his mid-back. It was the good kind of aching, the kind that gave him the vitality to fasten his pace.

He took the responsibility of taking Jason's dick back in his hand and stroke it in the rhythm of his thrusts. Jason's face twisted as he sharply inhaled. Posture faltering, he tried to keep control of his body but all his limbs turned flaccid when he fell into the flames.

James bit back praises and other words he wanted to say. He didn't have the stomach to speak. Afraid of Jason falling out of the spell; terrified of having to quit Jason now. He was sure, if Jason asked him to stop now, he probably wouldn't be able to. Fortunately, Jason was showing no signs of doubt or hesitancy. He was all in for the ride.

James studied his face. Watched emotions flicker through his eyes; joy, excitement, satisfaction. Watched his face twist when he cried out when James' dick brushed against a specific spot inside of him. James aimed for it again, his fragility on display and feeling like he was about two seconds from finishing. Jason's sounds encouraged him, kept tugging him towards the end.

"Shit, shit—Fuck." The mumbled curses were barely audible. Such silent, soft groans as Jason's fingers climbed up his back just to drag those nails over his skin once again. Every hit to his prostate was dragging him closer to the edge; neither of them would last much longer.

Jason's body tensed when both the movements of James' hand and hips turned mildly sloppy. James looked down where their bodies connected, lifting his head back up with a heavy breath. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried holding the wave off for another minute but the orgasm was catching up. He buried his face in the crook of Jason's neck, hips twitching and hands shaking.

Jason's body convulsed under him—back arching and toes curling. With eyes glossed over and a distant look buried within the iris, his body shot off the couch as he screamed James' name. Clenching around James, he came with a gravelly "hng" sound and spilled his load over their stomachs. Throwing his head over the armrest, he went entirely limp, staring at the room upside-down with wide eyes and lips faintly parted. James would have thought he was dead if it wasn't for the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

Above him, James groaning and gasping out curses, fucking into him like there was no tomorrow. Still pounding into him, taking long dragging breaths until he went rigid. James gave in to the urge he had been fighting off since first sinking into Jason. With his vision turning grey, he came so hard he was afraid his heart would stop. His mind went blank and he couldn't tell where he ended and where the world began.

— ✧ —

James snatched the half-empty bottle of beer and seated himself on the coffee table. His movements were lazy, heavy as he picked up his boxers along with his shirt from the floor. He used the t-shirt to wipe Jason's cum off his stomach, tossing the cloth back on the ground before focusing on his boxers. Pulling the fabric up his legs, he decided he didn't fancy a cigarette on the balcony after all and settled on enjoying his beer—underwear halfway up his thighs.

Jason had blacked out less than a minute after and James had occupied himself by watched him sleep. He lied on his side on the cushions, a storm of ivory flesh glistening in the silver moonlight and ruby bruised lips faintly parted. Lovely whisky curls laid over the pillows, clouded cerulean eyes closed and thick eyelashes sticking together from dried tears. Innocent as a child.

James' fingers twitched while reaching out his hand to let dry fingertips softly brush over the curve of his waist; riding up the milky pathway of skin up to his face. The touch of his fingers was delicate and held a loving side to it as his thumb glided on his jawline, index finger skimming over his cheekbone down to his lips. He wiped away a streak of saliva off his chin before leaning closer.

"J-Jason?" he called out, chucking more beer down his throat and all that alcohol finally getting into his head. Jason didn't even stir. He continued breathing steadily and James set his now empty bottle of beer down. "You wait, Baby, I'll get you a blanket. D-Don't go anywhere."

He managed to get himself upright, pulling the boxers over his ass when the fabric that clung to his thighs began to scratch against his balls as he disappeared into the bedroom. When he returned, he had the thick hotel duvet thrown over his shoulder and a fresh bottle of beer in hand from the minibar.

"There you go," he slurred while tossing the duvet over the unconscious Jason. he opened his beer before leaning down to give his one-night stand a kiss on the forehead. He nestled his nose in Jason's hair and breathed in. smelling the delicious flavor, exotic as always. Fresh-scented pine and honey, intermining with an unfamiliar cologne.

He took the remote, held onto his beer for dear life, and lifted the duvet to huddle himself on the couch. He set Jason's legs in his lap, rested his feet on the coffee table, and turned on the TV. The turn-out could wait until tomorrow; tonight he wanted to drink his beer and watch the random crap that the tv showed in the middle of a night.

That lasted for less than an hour before James lied next to Jason, scooping his boneless body up in his arms to spoon him, and fell into a dreamless sleep. Dazed and confused. Drunk and utterly satisfied.


	2. dream a little dream of me

James rouse from his drunken slumber around six-thirty in the morning. He found himself in utter darkness; the sun had yet to rise and it left him with no hint of daylight flooding through the windows. The only indication that there weren't thick, heavy blankets thrown over the glass were the dim, tangerine orange streetlights that illuminated through the two windows. The only other source of light was the TV that mutedly played and light up the somber room in sudden splotches of vibrant colors.

He groaned at the feeling of nails being hammered in his brain and the room spinning around him like it did when he was a child and got off his fifth go at a carousel. Nudging himself up from the hole of a couch, it was an unforeseen and abrupt discovery that he had company. Warm, nearly burning skin swept against his side, modestly sifting beside him and stirring him awake.

A misty memory flashed in front of his eyes. It lasted for a brief instant. Merely the outlines of the sight he saw last night. Hazy and uncertain, already fading but James was sure it was stuck in his brain for the rest of times. He saw the mop of curly auburn hair, felt the strands against his shoulder, and that was all the confirmation he ever needed.

He reached out to the tiny stand beside the couch to turn on the table lamp. Blindly feeling up the lamp's body, he found the switch and stretched out his fingers to flick it on. Yellowish, mellow gleam spilled inside the hotel room and it made James squint his sore eyes. He rustled with the sheets and raised his gaze to see Jason sitting beside him, scratching at the dried semen on his stomach.

James pursed his lips when he perceived Jason's tear-stained cheeks. With his knees pulled up to his chest and chin resting in between, Jason had piled the duvet over his bare legs and was nervously toying with his ring, twisting and turning it around his thumb. His face was pale as a sheet, lips dry, hair knotted and worn-out and the inside of his mouth smeared with a tint of metallic taste since chewing his bottom lip open.

James raised on his elbow, fingers softly brushing against Jason's forearm as he asked, "what is it?"

Jason muttered something unintelligible under his breath and shrank into a tinier ball. James's brows knitted together as he rubbed his blurry eyes into focus and sat up on the couch. He wrenched the blanket tighter against himself, tamely moving his icy toes underneath it and avoiding brushing them against Jason. He probably wouldn't appreciate it if James began poking him with his frigid feet this early in the morning.

"What's wrong?" His voice was husky, definitely raspy and it seemed to catch Jason's attention for a mere minute before he coldly turned away.

"Nothing," he murmured but there was nothing convincing about his tone. Flat and quiet, eyes distant and muscles tense. His body was boiling hot but touch incredibly, immensely cold—James tried understanding the sudden change of mood.

"Nothing?" echoed James. "How is it 'nothing'? If it's 'nothing', why are you so upset, then?"

Jason deeply exhaled, bringing his hand to his face to pick at his lips. He turned his face towards James, barely so, but it was enough for their eyes to meet. "This—oh, my God," he started and vaguely pointed his finger between them. "Why did _this_ have to happen? I don't understand."

"Oh, of course." James lied back with a much heavier heart. "That's what's wrong."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jason called out while stretching out his legs. _"How? How_ did this even happen? And why? Now everything's different, everything's changed. It's all so fucked and stupid and I don't even remember it."

The indistinct shrug of shoulders was meant to indicate indifference; perhaps James even succeeded. Nevertheless, it didn't change the fact that he cared, more than he would ever like to admit. "Yeah, well..."

"It's just so stupid. So fucking stupid. Now everything's ruined," he groaned. "Why _you_ out of all people?"

James tried not to take offense to that.

"I drank way too much last night," Jason scolded himself, continuing his nervous fidgeting with the sheets instead. "I shouldn't have drunk so much. Got totally out of hand. Shit, I'm such an idiot."

"I got grapes in the freezer. Always help me with a hangover," James mentioned with a lazy gesture in the direction of a mini-fridge underneath a writing desk. "I don't think you even drank that much."

"I should've slowed down with the beers. Got to my head and— _well."_

"You think it was the beer?"

"You think I would've slept with you if I was sober?" Jason snorted. _Ouch, okay._ He didn't mean it to come off as harsh and spitefully.

"Thanks." James' tone was wildly sarcastic and Jason sifted at the unexpected change. His eyes grew wide at the realization of what he had said and his lips quickly parted to soften the edges but James cut him off, "maybe I should cry too? Because I've _dirtied_ myself with you."

"I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it like that. I know you were drunk too, I'm sorry." Jason was wiping away dried tears as James threw off the duvet and climbed out of the pleasant warmth. "I just don't want this to change anything between us."

"Maybe you don't remember it but I do," James started, rolling his eyes as he continued with the sharp, sarcastic tone. "And you weren't complaining, then, that's for sure. You asked for it, actually."

"Fuck you, alright?" snapped Jason. "And since you remember so well, you weren't _that_ drunk and still went through with it." He clicked his tongue, whispering under his breath, "says a lot about you."

"Hey, don't try twisting this into something it's not. Don't act like I took advantage of you or something. 'Cause I didn't. I would _never_ do something like that," defended James.

"You're hurting my head," Jason murmured when James raised his voice, pressing his forehead against his palm and scrunching up his nose.

"And I asked you about a hundred times if you wanted it. You were very eager, then!"

"Yeah 'cause I was drunk!"

"And so was I! What _the_ _fuck_ do you want me to do about it?" James raised his voice, putting pressure into each and every syllable. "You offered it to me on a silver fuckin' platter, you know that, right? And if I could go back, I wouldn't of fucked you either! I'm not that way!"

Jason looked down like a child getting yelled at by his parents. James was getting heated as he paced around the room; mad as flies in a fruit jar.

"But do you see me crying about it? Blaming you for it?" He had lowered his voice again; afraid of waking up other hotel guests. They had probably kept the neighbors awake long enough last night. "Don't put your shit on me when you can't keep your legs closed after a few beers."

"Fuck you, Man! _Fuck_ _you!"_ screamed Jason, pulling the sheets up to his chin and slumping down on the couch like a pouting toddler. The duvet was for a king-sized bed and Jason was drowning in it. It almost looked funny. James would probably describe it as 'cute' if he wasn't swimming in the deep end.

James sighed, rubbing his face and throwing himself on a hard, wooden chair that came in a complect with the writing desk.

The silence that followed was awkward. James couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he perceived how _deep_ he was. It had to be when he thought back on the last couple of weeks, then looked at Jason huddled up in the duvet, and wondered why his ego was so bruised by his reaction.

He knew why. He had known for a long time. Maybe he had fallen, maybe it was just the allure of the night they spent; either way, it didn't matter because watching Jason rub at his skin as if he was trying to get rid of dirt, was a rejection on its own.

"I'm sorry I freaked out." And just like that, the poisonous silence was broken again as Jason dared to speak. James lifted his bored eyes from the carpet and focused them on Jason who was sitting up on the couch again. "I'm sorry. You were fucked up too, I know. I'm sorry, it's just—"

"Yeah, whatever." James chewed the inside of his cheek. "Just forget about it. Never bring it up again and move the fuck on."

"Yeah, okay."

"And never tell anyone. I don't want anyone finding out about this. No one needs to know..." Some more awkward, unclear hand movements between them. "Shame that a lot of people will miss out on the _thrilling_ details but what can ya do?" he humorously added, sarcasm reeking from his voice.

Jason hummed. "You don't mind me using your shower, right?"

Pursing his lips, he shook his head in a gesture that he couldn't care less. With a coy smile, Jason stood up from the couch, clinging onto the duvet for dear life and wrapping it around his waist and stomach.

"Fuck, I really need one. I feel so—" He caught himself. Directly staring at James, he decided the adjective 'dirty' wasn't appropriate for the situation and changed the direction of the conversation, "I just really need a wash." Not much better.

James kept his facial expression blank but couldn't keep the bitter frown off his face when Jason sifted past him without another word. James kept his gaze glued to a tiny stain on the carpet as his jaw clenched. When Jason had turned his back on him, he unintentionally tried sneaking a glance under the duvet but it hung way past Jason's knees. Most he saw was a pair of ankles.

"Yeah, make sure to wash up all nice and clean where I touched! Why don't I go and find you some fucking sandpaper so you can scrub your _fucking_ skin off when you get back!" he called after him when Jason had closed the bathroom door. Jason gave him no reaction and by the time he was finished in the shower, James was gone along with his frozen grapes.

— ✧ —

Some days had passed since the ruinous Friday night in the city of Morrison, and to say James had been in a foul mood since would be an understatement. He was tense, volatile, and viciously unpredictable. Filled with self-hatred, shame, and had a lavish avidity to destruct everything and everybody around him.

He sulked in his self-pity and regret. Patching up a deeply wounded pride wasn't an easy task and had never been harder. His first initial reaction was to deny and overthrow. Deny it ever happened, and when that didn't work; deny the end results of the night. It happened, he came to terms with that, but he chose to pass off the changes.

It was a delicious and comfortable conclusion to end up with. 'Whatever I did and whatever happened, cannot and will not change me, him or the band', and that was a form of self-defense that he utterly and full-heartedly believed. Until he didn't and all he was left with was a concept he had so dearly clung to but could no longer fool himself with. _The night changed everything._

Maybe it was when he caught himself staring at another bottom of a bottle, maybe it was when his vision clouded with crude images of Jason when sharing a bed with an alluring groupie, maybe it was when he found himself buying Death Angel's 'The Ultra-Violence' album and listening to it until he fell asleep because he had seen the cassette among Jason's belongings.

Since he had, quite frankly, fucked Jason's brains out, he couldn't rule his attraction to him as simple appreciation or mild admiration anymore. When he used to drink to get rid of shame and guilt, vodka had turned into a poison that first washed away Jason's name, then his own, and made his heart burn and flare until it turned into ice.

He twirled from one vulgar and luscious dream to another night after night. If he wasn't as attached to the idea of fitting inside the norms and being accepted by society, perhaps he wouldn't be suffering like this. Every night it went from 'maybe I like him' to 'I don't 'cause I'm straight' to 'I wanna fuck him so bad it makes me look stupid' to 'but I'm not some fucking faggot' to 'I don't wanna think anymore'.

— ✧ —

Watching his bandmate chat with a woman shouldn't have bothered James. The way she had her hand on his shoulder shouldn't have irked him. Her alluring smiles and heartening laughter should have not ticked him off. It shouldn't have been a thing he paid any attention to or even cared to notice. Nevertheless, if it should have or should have not, it riled him up to the point he was afraid his heart would burst.

James had nestled himself by the bar counter and gained a glass of whisky on the rocks. It was a good change from the plastic cups and cheap beer. His eyes kept darting back to one of the booths in the far corner of the hotel bar where Jason had sunken into a spirited conversation with a woman James had definitely seen before but couldn't point out where.

Refusing to admit his irritation was caused by jealousy, James tried to drive away the feeling of anger that was wickedly creeping up his bones. He tried to distract himself by watching how the bartender threw bottles in the air and how the ladies dumbfoundedly watched the show. But more often than not, his eyes roamed to places they should have not.

"You're gonna break that glass if you hold it any tighter," Kirk pointed out, tumbling in the empty stool next to James. With his knees spread apart, he took up way too much space for somebody his size as he called the show-off bartender over.

James loosened his grip on his drink as he switched hands—gaze falling down to watch the color return to his knuckles and his palm turn a shade of scarlet red. He glanced at Kirk who had his elbows on the counter, asking the bartender what was available. After deciding on the drink choices, he sat back with a satisfied smile.

James had a bad habit of not listening when he was in a sour mood. Kirk was explaining an idea he had but James hadn't listened enough to know if it even had anything to do with the band or not. James was distracted by the deserted booth Jason and the woman had previously occupied. Staring at the vacant seats, his heart dropped to his stomach.

His head jerked up fast enough to injure his cervical spine. With his palms turning sweaty, fingers curling back around the glass, a pair of fierce eyes wandered over the faces in the bar. His breathing slowed, every muscle tightened, and antipathy kept piling up his bones.

"Did you see where Jason went?" All of the words blurred together; the sentence was hasty and precipitate.

Kirk shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Last saw him with a chick somewhere... Uhm, I don't know actually. Why?"

"No reason," James murmured under his breath and Kirk had to strain his ears to hear it over the music. James pushed himself up from the barstool and didn't even bother sparing Kirk a glance or any greater goodbye as he directed his brisk but determined footsteps in the direction of the exit.

_You're pathetic,_ a voice in the back of his head said. _And a fool_ , it added as he ran through the building; hoping to catch Jason even though he hadn't figured out what could be said. He doubted there was much he could say, anyway.

Jason was more distant than ever. If they hadn't been close before, they were living on different planets now. They could sit in the same room, play on the same stage, stand on the same ground side by side but be oceans apart.

James would turn around whenever he noticed that Jason would directly address him, run and hide whenever Jason would come too close, nod along but never listen. He kept the communication between them minimal. The most said between them was probably 'get out of my way' or 'would you just shut the fuck up?'.

His shamefully rotten but most beloved nightmare came to greet him again.

He had this fantasy of Jason on his knees, wet lips around his dick. He imagined the warmth, the glassed eyes, the strands of hair brushing against his thighs. He thought about the soft whimpers and hums, the drool, the flaming gaze, the lean curves— _oh, Dear God._

The self-hatred that came with such a chimera ran deep in his blood and haunted him everywhere he went.

But even that tantalizing, raw daydream he brushed off as 'being confused'. He was ignorant and plain stupid, not realizing how incredibly, ridiculously, and truly _fucked_ he was.

It was when he had to watch Jason's lips spread into a genuine, warm smile while talking to a woman. Had to watch his eyes squint as he laughed at something she said, how she fluttered her long eyelashes at him when he bought her a drink, how he leaned towards her to whisper something in her ear. That had spiked up a hurricane of emotions he could no longer deny.

James took a deep breath after exiting the elevator that brought him back on the first floor. He hadn't found Jason on their floor; Jason had disappeared along with the woman and James was left to sink somewhere between his life-long beliefs of homosexuality and the whirlwind of bittersweet memories Jason left behind.

— ✧ —

An hour later and James had met a girl at the bar. He had been sitting by the counter, trying to force his feelings into beer bottles when she got drawn into a strident argument with a friend of hers. She needed to let off some steam and he needed a distraction; it was an instant friendship.

He learned that her name was Margo and she was a real blabbermouth; that was the most he remembered about her the next day. She was exquisite and dreamy, pure as a dove. She told him about her dreams of becoming a snake whisperer in India, then bounced to another idea of learning witchcraft to curse her ex-boyfriend. She was so foolishly childish and sincerely good-natured.

Margo was ten minutes into her story about visiting the Alps eight years ago and James had decided he needed some kind of other distraction than a drunk, half-baked loony who kept blathering on and on about nonsense. Soon after that conclusion, he also discovered that Jason had reappeared, alone this time.

"Sorry, have to stop you there," James interrupted her monologue. "There's someone I really need to talk to so... see you around, I guess."

"What?" Margo's head snapped up, her wide brown eyes staring up at James in surprise. "You really don't wanna hear how the story ends? You don't wanna know what happened to Susan?" If only James had listened enough to know who Susan was.

"Maybe later." He snatched his fresh glass of whisky, gave Margo one last glance and a slow raise of the hand to indicate a wave. His legs had carried him to Jason before he had time to even think about it.

Jason stood by the bar, next to a bunch of vacant stools. With his elbows on the counter and upper body leaning over the dark wood, he tried to get the bartender's attention. It wasn't a busy night but a group of friends was keeping the bartender entertained and Jason wasn't the one to raise his voice or snap his fingers disrespectfully. He relied on soft heys and excuse mes and vague hand waves.

"Had a good time with the blonde?" James startled him. Approaching from behind was a dirty move and Jason ended up flinching.

"What'd you mean?" Jason's voice was flat, not the least bit curious. Bored, if anything, and in case he was surprised that James was the one to approach him first and openly, he didn't show it.

James pressed his lips into a narrow line as Jason finally managed to catch the bartender's attention and order himself a drink. James sat on a stool and watched Jason interact with the bartender, ordering himself a cocktail of some kind.

"I mean the blondie you were talking to," James cleared when the bartender returned to his business. "Had a good time?"

"You mean Denise? My brother's wife?"

"Brother's wife," James echoed. "So, you and her didn't... _well_ , y' know?" He wished he could punch himself for letting that nervous jumble of words slip between his lips like a fool.

"Excuse me?" Jason blinked in surprise. "That's all you have to say? _Seriously?_ You treat me like absolute piece of dog shit for a week and now you wanna be concerned about my sex life?" He let his head tilt to the side in disappointment. "Get fucked."

"Christ, you're dramatic."

"And you're being an asshole." Jason's features twisted into a sarcastic, forced smile. "You can't even look at me."

James' eyes flickered up to meet Jason's gaze. "There. Happy?"

"This is probably the first time you've looked me in the eyes since last Friday. Weren't you the one saying we'd forget about what happened and move on?"

James played with his drink; blankly watching the tawny brown liquor swirl around the glass and listening to the clicking of the ice cubes.

"I just don't get you," Jason sighed. "One moment you assure me everything's fine and nothing's changed and the next you pretend like I don't exist. I just want everything to go back to normal 'cause things have been _everything_ but normal since you—"

"Let's not talk about it, okay? Nothing worth bringing up again."

"No, let's talk about it. I think we should talk about it." Jason had gained confidence somewhere along the way. "What's your problem?"

"There's no problem," James brushed him off. The tension was restless and strained, the air thick with anxiety. Even the slow jazz song couldn't save them from awkward, uncomfortable silence.

"No, there is, and I want you to tell me what it is so we can solve it," insisted Jason. Pursing his lips, he turned to James, the round edge of the bar counter now digging into his ribs.

"What's my fuckin' problem? My problem is that you fucking _cried_ the morning after! You want me to pretend like that shit didn't scare the hell out of me?" James burst.

He secretly glanced at Jason, not surprised to meet a pair of wide eyes staring right back at him. Lips faintly parted and breathing turning heavy, shaky hands nearly letting his glass slip between his fingers. James sensed the uncertainty in his stiff movements. Saw how his lineaments held worry and doubt, saw the awkward standing in one place; neither here or there.

"Good talk, Man." James got on his feet after downing the rest of his drink but Jason refused to let this opportunity slip away.

"No, no, don't run away from me." Jason's fingers clasped around his forearm in a lackluster attempt to haul him back in his seat. "What? This is what you do? Run-off every time things get a little uncomfortable?"

"I don't know what you want from me. I really don't," he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I wanna talk about this! Or do you wanna be a coward and keep running?" Jason barked, digging his nails into the fabric of James' shirt to pull him back when he attempted to escape.

"Talk about what?" James brought his voice down. "How I fucked you? Is that really something you wanna talk about?"

James shook his head before ripping himself free from Jason's grasp. He began marching in the direction of the exit with Jason a step behind.

"If it's bothering you so fucking much then sure! I wanna talk about it!" heaved Jason.

"It was stupid and irresponsible and really fucking vile. And we're not gonna talk about it. Ever again. I thought we agreed on that."

Jason had followed him out of the bar and they had entered the quieter areas of the hotel. James liked to avoid explaining his actions and awkward conversations about his feelings. Jason liked to think that communication was necessary.

James stormed around the hotel like he previously had when he was searching for Jason. He wasn't surprised to see Jason following him, running behind him, and eventually cornering him in one of the elevators.

"Yeah, but—"

"Jason, stop," James cut him off. "Let's drop it, all right? It's good if we're... apart for a while. Keep a little distance, hm?"

"Out of sight, out of mind, right?" Jason rolled his eyes. "Sweeping it under the rug is not gonna undo it, y' know? It _still_ happened."

"And what's talking about it gonna do?" sneered James.

Jason was barely a foot away from him and James felt closed in against the wall. Swallowing thickly, his hands clutched Jason's shoulders to push him across the elevator to the other side and pin him there. He was back in control and he had Jason trapped against a wall.

Jason sifted away but there wasn't anywhere to go. He blinked at James, palms pressing against the chest that was invading his personal space, and eyes staring up at the singer. James' gaze flickered to his lips.

"Do it, then," Jason whispered as the elevator came to a halt. _"Do it,_ James."

James' jaw tightened and his mouth dried. A shaky breath in, a quick glance at the open elevator doors and the deserted hallway, gentle fingers against his chin to tug his eyes away from the hallway and back to Jason.

"Hear this," James snarled. "What happened disgusts me. Everything about you fuckin' sickens me..." He hesitated when Jason's features turned into a grimace. "And I'm not gonna participate in your nasty, faggot habits, okay? Leave me alone."

_Famous last words..._

**Author's Note:**

> this account and i do not condone the showing of this to people mentioned or the invasion of their private lives.


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